ORIGIN

The image of the large feathery creature sitting upon the fish, talons engaged and puncturing the body, was all he could think of. The shimmer of the fish scales as the water tapered off of it. The puckering of the skin where the claws dug in. Most of all, the smell - you'd expect a freshly caught thing to be clean smelling, but he could recall with perfect clarity the metallic scent of its blood. And with the innocence of youth to cushion any moral explorations, Himmel's brain sparked an idea.

He didn't prance so much as sulk towards the ponds. It was here that the bird had speared its fish (after some magical assistance); but Himmel knew he did not have that capability. He did have his pointy toes, and his limbs were long thin and easy enough to control. So he crept to the side of the ponds and dipped his head in mimicry of drinking.

He stood there, stooped, watching the water's surface. He did not touch the water. He didn't even blink if he could help it - just staring at the water and willing the fish to move. He watched the tiny shapes shimmering beneath the surface and when they drifted closer, oblivious to the danger that the herbivore might pose, and when one got close enough Himmel thrust a forelimb through the fluid like a joust with the hopes he could impale something.

The water practically frothed around him with the effort of his stab, but he thought he felt something move in resistance to his toes. He withdrew, shaking his foot like a displeased feline who did not want to be dripping (because he didn't) and a scowl twisted across his face in response to the slick feeling on his leg.

The fish he'd clipped with his hoof was leaking in to the water. Himmel was distracted by the gross feeling on his limb and he didn't immediately notice as the pond darkened with a subtle red. It wasn't until a minute or so later, when the fish was floating belly-up some distance away from him that Himmel recognized what had happened. He'd speared the thing as he'd wanted - but only barely. The score of his hoof must have done some damage.

That wasn't good enough. He wanted the fish out of the water but now it was drifting further away, closer to the center of the pond! The boy stomped his hoof, turning away like the pond had done that on purpose to scorn him, snorting and frowning at his surroundings.

He began to pace alongside the water. What good was his ability to spear a fish, even if just barely, if he couldn't fetch it from the water? He needed it to be out. He needed - oh.

As he turned to continue pacing he spotted movement again, this time from a shoal of tiny fish. Smaller than the sleek thing that floated upside down. They swam in circles that slowly drew closer and closer, and he watched with a growing dissatisfaction. None of those fish would be good enough to spear; beyond being so far away they were so small.

But then they began to close in on their target. Little nibbles at the fins, turning the fish in to a bobbing shape. The longer he watched the more he understood - the fish he had struck was being disposed of. Himmel watched as the tiny group of fish worked on their lost friend for a few more seconds but, as was inevitable with children, he grew bored of it.

He was learning things in his own way, but it was not enough.

The next pond was a little bit bigger. Himmel approached it with a subtle derision written across his face. He did not have a high opinion of this area or the lessers the inhabited their little aquatic prisons. It would be better to look on the bright side: fish, meet barrel. Anything he wanted to test out he could do so here without issue, and if he managed to get a fish out of its habitat and on to the ground, his real studying could begin.

With a resigned sigh he set up along the bank of this second pond. He employed the same method: bow his head, pretend to drink. Wait. Then when something moved close, a quick pounce. His previous effort had utilized a stabbing thrust but this time he used his front end in its entirety; rearing up and slamming down so as to bar the fish from escaping.

It was crude. It made him wetter in more places, and he hated that. But as the water settled Himmel looked for any large shapes floating nearby, hawkish with those big baby eyes.

And of course that method amounted to being soaking wet with nothing positive to show for all the effort. As Himmel withdrew from the water he rolled his shoulders and tried to shake the water off of his chest. His wet chest. His belly which was now dripping with pond water and flakes of debris. It was... Repulsive.

To him more aggravated was the sight of the pond's edge - the rocks were splattered with drops from where he removed himself but there were no fish there, not even floating in the water like the last time. A complete and utter failure. Himmel stomped both his feet and shook his head in the manner of an adult brandishing their crown (unaware that this was an instinctual response) and began to pace along the water's edge again. This time he was more insistent with his steps, kicking up clods of dirt or stomping on the moss as he found it. Frustrated.

Children did not have the most dependable attention spans. Himmel, currently, is no different. He's failed in his efforts twice now and he is ready to throw in the proverbial towel.

If he wants to get a fish, he'll have to try something else. Stabbing had worked but it had hurt the object rather than retrieved it as he expected. Slamming with his hooves had been messy, so he wasn't going to try that a second time. What had the bird done differently?

Himmel stopped his pacing as he thought about it. He had been investigating the plants and hadn't really seen anything happen, but there had been that humming in the air - like activated leylines, something emanating from the creature. He'd said it was magic.

He frowns. His magic doesn't do anything like that and somehow he's aware of that shortfall. Was there another option..? He shakes his head in silent disagreement, pawing at the dirt with one limb as he tries to wrap his mind around what to do. Then he turns his attention to the pond and the water which has finally settled, flat and calm.

The boy faces the edge and tries to relax but the agitation of his earlier efforts burns like embers in his belly. He can't help but shift his weight a little bit, reseat his little tail, pivot his ears. He's fidgeting and unable to settle down enough to focus. As he's looking around he spies a chunk of moss which he had kicked up earlier and moves towards it, kicking it sharply with a flick of his hoof, and watches it hit the water and then sink with a bloop, bubbles of trapped air fizzling around it.

The fish are attracted to it. They form a crescent around the mound immediately - like they had around the dead fish earlier - and the agitation Himmel had been feeling vanishes immediately. He's staring at them as they collectively swim around it gobbling at the bubbles. Maybe they think there is nutrition in them or something. Stupid.

When he lunges in to the water his limbs churn the surface, kicking up and splattering pond scum everywhere. The fish slip away just as swiftly as they'd come - evading his chaos. Even before the water settles this time Himmel lets out a pitchy shout and rears up only to slam his feet angrily in to the soft soil along the pond's edge.

Maybe the only way he could get what he wanted was to force the fish out of the damn pond. He couldn't get a single fish with a stab and he couldn't force a lot of them out with a sweep, and they were too fast even after being baited. He wasn't going to let these puny little things outsmart him - they couldn't even talk! They didn't have magic. They were so useless; if he couldn't succeed here then what did that make him? No - he would not let them win. Himmel was riled now and determined to succeed in whatever way he could.

The fish had shot away from him and his attack and now were drifting out of reach again. They would go wherever the food is. What did fish eat? He wondered if it was moss, as that had attracted them before. But no it had to be something else that drew them close - moss was his food, it was wasted on the tiny silver things. If he waited they would forget about him. He had to be patient. That would be difficult considering how pissed off he was at this point, and how immature; but it could not be helped.

The frustration he felt ebbed away as he stalked alongside the pond. Himmel swallowed it and forced himself to compartmentalize it. So far this was his only emotion - this quiet emberous rage - but he would block it out if he had to. The water settled. He could settle too, for now. This was a serious matter now.

His jaw set in a way that made his teeth grind; his neck veins pulsed while the neck itself stiffened, tension building in his upper back. He stomped a few more times but the feeling of rage did not abate, and then he turned his attention to the water - and the flare of anger mixed with his brewing magicka only to erupt from him, spreading throughout the pond; one by one the fish eyes began to emanate a warm glow like the flickering of a campfire.

There were many points of light among the shoals of the smallest fish. Before long Himmel was oblivious to the wet feeling of the water on his limbs as he stares in to the depths, watching these constellations swimming further away from him, forming a natural crescent-shaped void as if the fish knew where he was at all times now. He stared across the water at all the points of light, and his rage fell away.

With their eyes aglow it was easier to pinpoint positions. Smaller clusters of fish were fast-moving but they held an ethereal red-orange glow that moved with them now; larger fish were scattered nearer the middle of the pond and Himmel knew he'd never reach them without diving in to the water, which he could not do.

He could not shake the memory of being tumbled through the ponds upon his emergence either. The assumption that he would nearly drown again (or earn more cuts and bruises to mar his already beat-up body) was a good deterrent too.

As he stood there ruminating over his emergence and the trauma of it, he was still. The fish began to drift closer as he stagnated there; and then they came a touch too close for their own good, and he slowly bent his head as if to drink - only to go a little further and snap his snout through the water at them, as if he might scoop some up upon his tongue or crush a few bodies in his teeth; if Himmel managed to pinch them and pull them from the water then he would toss the resulting mess on to the shore.

He was an idiot child. They were a school of tiny fish (with the bonus of some glowing). The winner? The fish - or rather the watery home the fish cavorted within.

Himmel's teeth did not connect with any fish. His face hit the water too hard and the fluid filled his mouth, shot its way up his nose, and stung the still-fresh cuts across his face, resulting in the boy gasping more water in to his mouth and down his throat.

He rose up in a spasm of coughing. Water wicked from his chin and sprayed around him as he fought against the gulp. He swallowed some of the water but a good amount went down the wrong tube and made him gag and cough. He let out a belch as he climbed the pond's edge and mouthful of mixed water-and-bile from his gut came rolling up and out.

As Himmel collapsed upon the bank he tucked his legs beneath his body and struggled for a moment for composure. He was not drowning but he was strongly reminded of that feeling from before and his entire body responded: trembling, tense, his heart thundering in his chest while the sound around him felt as if it dropped-out. He was alone with this overwhelming sense of doom.